


Lyrical Elixir

by SongOfMarbule



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, Dancing and Singing, First Crush, M/M, Music, Self-Esteem Issues, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23883679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongOfMarbule/pseuds/SongOfMarbule
Summary: When music and singing are Prompto's way of coping with the less than stellar moments in his life, how will he fare when he can no longer indulge? And what will he do when he reaches his breaking point, after an incident in battle leaves him sleepless and frightened?
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52





	Lyrical Elixir

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the piece I wrote almost a year ago for the [Regalia Mixtape zine](https://twitter.com/ffxvmusiczine)! If you've read more than one story of mine, you've probably noticed by now that I'm heavily inspired by music - so to have the opportunity to write something so personal involving my favourite character was a real treat. It's also, uh, further proof that I can't help but have Promnis bleed into everything I write so, well, there you have it. I hope you enjoy!

Prompto swore he dreamt in song.

Most mornings, he’d wake with a song stuck in his head, the lyrics so crystal clear he’d feel them ringing in his ears. He had to wonder if they were remnants of a dream he’d had the previous night; fragments of a marvelous vision his mind had conjured up that had vanished the instant his eyes cracked open. What were these grand stories his subconscious would write while he slept, he wondered. What strange scenarios and jaw-dropping sights did his imagination sculpt in the amusement park of his mind, acting out stories like figurines in a claymation film?

Growing up, there was hardly a moment when Prompto didn’t have headphones on. Living in an empty house  _ did  _ things to you sometimes - silence was suffocating in its nothingness. So, to craft the illusion that he wasn’t alone, he turned to music. Music was always there. Music could be controlled; it could come and go with the click of a button, it could change to something completely different if one so desired. 

In Prompto’s day-to-day life, growing up as the fat, quiet kid meant that school was unpredictable. Would today be a day where your classmates treated you as if you weren’t even there? Or would it be a day where  _ that _ group of kids decided to shout names at you when you walked down the hall, trapping you against the wall until you gave them the lunch you’d made for yourself that morning? It was always a gamble. 

Unlike school life, music was a constant. Music couldn’t hurt you. Music couldn’t trip you. Music couldn’t call you names you’d desperately try to forget. Music was whatever you wanted it to be, and for Prompto, music was his best friend. His companion whenever he needed it; his audial security blanket when his spirits needed to be lifted up from beneath the weight of the world.

Music was Prompto’s go-to for stress relief. On a particularly bad day, where not even all the fast food in the world, or warm baths, or burying oneself in a mountain of blankets and pillows on your bed would help, Prompto’s stress relief evolved from merely  _ listening  _ to music and instead became  _ singing _ to it.

Oh, could Prompto  _ sing _ .

Front door slamming against the wall as he entered his home, his headphones were already in and blasting against his eardrums in a steady, cycling rhythm that made every part of him move. 

“Dancing!” Prompto belted out the second the front door closed, trapping him inside his safe haven, far away from prying and judging eyes and ears. “Dancing! Dancing’s not a crime, unless you do it without me!”

He slung his backpack off of his shoulder and spun it around, tossing it without a care onto the nearby couch. 

“I just wanna be!” Prompto kicked off one shoe, then two, after stumbling a few steps. “Your boyfriend, girlfriend, oh _ yeah! _ ” 

Singing all the way into the kitchen, Prompto opened the fridge, hand seeking the carton of orange juice. He sang throughout the cup retrieval process, sang as he poured the beverage, and sang as he made his way over to the couch. 

When the song finished, he had a smile on his face, taking a slow sip from his glass at last.

He’d forgotten all about that afternoon gym class incident, now.

Music continued to be his only comfort for another two weeks after that, until a fateful encounter with a small white dog changed his life forever. Music, however, continued to be his best friend while he trained hard, every single day, until a few years later when Noctis took over that role.

Even in his new life, Prompto still felt the need to sing every single day. He’d often release the stress accumulated during his long, grueling training sessions with the Crownsguard by performing full concerts in his home at night. His throat would be raw and he’d be exhausted, but he’d go to bed feeling  _ elated. _

Music would always have a special place in his heart. But not even music could make his heart feel entirely at ease.

While he was all smiles and brimming confidence on the outside, music worked silently in the background, healing that welt deep in his chest. That one spot he was sure would never heal completely; that open suture where his past feelings of loneliness and self-doubt continued to fester, like a bloom of fungal spores, even now when he was the happiest and healthiest he’d ever been in his life.

Prompto stopped singing when they left Insomnia. Without the comfort and security of his home, he felt he couldn’t expose anyone else to his coping method. Not only was it embarrassing, but it felt oddly intimate, like being naked with someone else in the room. Prompto just couldn’t entertain the thought.

But could he do this?  _ Really _ do this, this whole thing with Noctis and the others, without turning to song to help him cope with the fatigue and the stress and those toxic feelings of  _ uselessness  _ that still swirled around inside his mind?

He doubted it. Prompto still had his headphones, but he soon found that he’d ruined himself. There was no denying it; the only thing that made him feel truly better was singing. Just listening to music wouldn’t cut it - he needed the release of vocalizing to come down from his emotional highs. And now, he couldn’t do it.

So instead, he tried telling himself every day, words recited like a mantra: he could do this. Noctis, Ignis, Gladiolus - they all relied on him. He couldn’t let them down. He loved his friends. He wanted to do them proud. He wanted to be the best person he could be, and that meant finding something else to rely on so his emotions wouldn’t impair him in the heat of battle.

Only, he just couldn’t find that something.

That day had been a strenuous and heavy one. In the middle of a hunt, they came across a surprise daemon that they couldn’t escape from. Prompto wasn’t sure how long they’d all spent trying to damage that damn thing, but they’d cycled through their entire stash of curatives, and even  _ then _ they’d still barely made it out alive. Ignis in particular had taken a massive hit. 

A massive hit that Prompto could have prevented, if he’d summoned his blaster just a  _ second _ sooner.

Ignis had made it out alive, but back then, in that moment, Prompto had been sure that he’d died. 

Ignis had almost died. Because of  _ him _ .

Prompto couldn’t sleep that night. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it. That giant, vicious beast, its claws and teeth glistening with danger. He saw the blood,  _ so  _ much blood, how it nearly coated Ignis’ body from head to toe. How lifeless his eyes had looked; how the sound of Noctis and Gladiolus’ terrified cries continued to echo in his mind, over and over like a track on repeat.

He needed music.

While the others slept soundly around him, randomly arranged around the tent floor like strips of bacon, Prompto stepped over Noctis to rifle around in his bag. He quickly produced his MP3 player and ducked back into his sleeping bag, shoving his earbuds in before burying his head under his pillow.

Flipping on  _ Walk the Moon _ , the band he always turned to when he needed his spirits lifted, Prompto lay there and listened to their first two albums all the way from start to finish.

It wasn’t helping.

His anxiety spiked just past the halfway point of the third album before he was suddenly hit with the insatiable urge to go for a walk.

And  _ sing _ . Gods, did he want to sing. That urge, that  _ need  _ to release his emotions by song was so strong, it made him feel borderline sick on top of everything else.

Lighting up his device’s screen, Prompto checked the time. It was almost four o’clock in the morning; hardly the time to go for a leisurely stroll, but his legs were twitchy and he felt itchy all over and he was sure that if he stayed where he was right now, he’d end up bursting into tears. And he certainly didn’t want anyone to see  _ that _ .

Stepping over Gladiolus, Prompto slid his boots on and left the tent. The night air was cool and crisp and inviting - it felt beyond amazing. He just  _ walked _ ; he had no idea where he was even going, like he was being guided by an invisible spectre. And maybe he was.

Uphill from the haven they were camping at was a small clearing of trees, overlooking the grassy plains below. Prompto started to jog up the path, feeling his excitement grow. He suddenly felt so…  _ free.  _ And before he knew it, he was singing.

“Hold onto the ones you love, but don’t squeeze too tight,” Prompto sang, brushing a stray tree branch out of his face.

“Even a good thing can steal away, like a thief in the night.” He kicked a rock in his path, the sensation of boot scraping against dirt oddly satisfying.

He stopped jogging, grabbing hold of a nearby tree and swung around it like a lamp post.

“Wake up tough!” Prompto punched the tree with a closed fist, the song escaping him through clenched teeth.

“On time.”  _ Punch _ .

“Stand up straight!”  _ Kick. _

“Talk right.” He saluted to an invisible drill sergeant.

“Don't let up!”

“Be funny.”  _ Finger guns _ .

“Be cool.” He made quotation marks in the air, grabbing the tree once more to spin around it again.

“Keep running, I can’t keep up!” He let go and his feet nearly burst with velocity, propelling him back up that path towards the clearing.

“With all these boys, fast on their feet--” He huffed, as he ran, and ran, and ran.

“Gnashing teeth, they hit you up!”

Prompto skidded to a stop.

“And I can't sleep, wolves are coming for me!”

Prompto sat down on a log at the peak of the hill. The stars above sparkled across the midnight blue canopy, like a hole-punched blanket held up to the light.

“If you're keeping secrets,” Prompto continued to sing, “secrets from me - I don’t need to know, baby.”

His headphones prevented him from being alerted to the sound of footsteps not far behind him, traversing up the incline.

“Honey, keeping secrets, don't matter to me.”

_ Crunch, crunch, _ went the slightly heeled dress shoes against stone and old leaves.

“But these wolves, they keep on scratching at my heart---”

The steps came to a halt.

“And I still can't---

Prompto belted out the last line of the chorus with gusto.

“Sleeeeeeeeeeep!”

Gloved fingertips brushed against his shoulder curiously, just in time for him to nearly jump off the cliff in surprise.

“Gah!” Prompto yelped. His first instinct was to run, and run  _ fast _ , anywhere, he didn’t care, he just had to get  _ out of there _ . He ripped the headphones from his ears, and turned tail. 

“Prompto.”

Prompto stumbled.

“Prompto!”

Prompto tripped, falling forward. His hands blindly sought out support, finding a tree. About to take off again, he froze in place as that voice called out his name once more, keeping him anchored.

He knew that voice. Amidst the pounding of his heart against his eardrums, he could just make it out. It was warm, gentle. Calming. Like the soft reverbs of a ballad.

“...Ignis?” Prompto whispered at last. He didn’t turn his head, but he didn’t have to; he felt that hand on his shoulder again, and this time he wanted to do anything but run.

“I apologize for startling you, Prompto,” came his friend’s voice. “And I also apologize for following you. But waking and seeing you missing from the tent at an ungodsly hour was hardly means for me to just fall back asleep.”

“I’m sorry, I…. I just….” Prompto began. He didn’t know what to address first. He wanted to apologize, to beg for Ignis’ forgiveness for doing something as stupid as leaving in the middle of the night, alone, without telling anyone. And less importantly, he felt embarrassed that Ignis had  _ definitely  _ heard him singing. “I couldn’t sleep, and I just… I had to get away, and like, no matter what I did, I just couldn’t…couldn’t get that  _ sight _ out of my  _ mind _ , and----”

“No matter,” Ignis said. “It was a hard day for us all.”

Prompto’s hands gripped the tree trunk, trembling. “But Ignis. You don’t get it. All of that - everything - it was _ all my fault _ !”

“Hardly.”

“But  _ it was _ ,” Prompto insisted. “If I’d just been paying more attention, if I was just a  _ little bit  _ quicker, then none of that would have happened at all, and---”

Ignis clicked his tongue. Prompto felt the man’s fingers grip his shoulder, then gently rub at it. “Nonsense. One can’t expect oneself to be fully alert in the heat of battle at all times. There will always be a risk. There’s plenty of factors that can lower one’s----”

“There was just  _ so much blood _ ,” Prompto choked out. His eyes betrayed him; tears began to escape, streaking down his cheeks. “Ignis, I was so scared that you’d  _ died!  _ Like, you pretty much did! I just, I panicked, and I kept thinking, oh my gods, we lost Ignis. We lost Ignis, because of me. How was I supposed to live with myself after that? I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. If you had died, I… I would have been devastated! We all would have been! And I… I don’t know... I...”

Then, Prompto felt himself enveloped in what he could only describe as the physical embodiment of all the songs that gave him so much comfort.

“But I didn’t die,” Ignis whispered, holding him close. “And I won’t, as long as I have you and the others to watch over. Do you truly believe that I would leave you behind so soon?”

Prompto couldn’t answer. He turned, burying his face against that chest and just  _ cried.  _ It felt so…  _ liberating _ . It was like the feeling of Ignis’ hands rubbing at his back and the soft blaring of his music that still buzzed in his free-hanging earbuds were the only sensations he needed in the world.

“For what it’s worth,” Ignis said after a short moment had passed between them, “if it hadn’t happened, I may have continued on living this life never knowing how magnificent of a singing voice you have.”

Prompto’s blood ran cold.

“You heard,” he uttered.

“Yes, I did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for? You’re very talented, Prompto. I had no idea.”

Prompto sighed, hanging limp in Ignis’ embrace. “Yeah, well… it’s… not exactly something I let anyone know.”

“And why is that?”

“Singing’s always been my way of… coping, y’know?” Prompto said in a small voice against Ignis’ shirt. “I don’t know what it is, but singing is like… the only way I can get my emotions out of my system. It’s the only thing that makes me feel better. And ever since we left Insomnia, I haven’t been able to do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it would be embarrassing? I’ve never sung in front of anyone before, and… I don’t know, it’s just always been something I’ve done in private. I… didn’t know what you guys would think, and it’s not exactly ‘normal’ to just, turn around and randomly burst into song, like in a Disney movie.”

Ignis hummed fondly. “You’d be surprised,” he said. “I hear Gladio sing in the shower all the time.”

Prompto looked up at Ignis, his brow scrunching. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. And Noct? He used to sing all the time during the miracle that was him actually doing his dishes.”

Prompto bit his lip, considering this new information. “...whoa. I never would have guessed.”

Ignis smiled, releasing his hold on him slightly so he could regard him with a sombre gaze, one that Prompto could see thanks to the illuminated stars above. “And here’s a little secret of my own: I quite enjoy singing, as well.”

“You?” Prompto gaped. “Sing?” He tried to imagine it, how such a thing would even  _ sound _ like. “Really?”

Ignis nodded. Moving his arms away from Prompto, he reached between them to pick up one of Prompto’s earbuds that dangled freely like a pendulum. “Shall we listen to your music together, over on that log by the cliff? I could demonstrate for you, if you so wish.”

Prompto’s breath hitched in his throat, feeling his heart twist in his chest. He stared at Ignis, studying him, trying to determine if Ignis was making fun of him, somehow. Ignis wasn’t exactly the joking type. Sure, he had a sense of humour that bled through on his best days, but if he knew Ignis like he knew Ignis, the man would never joke about something serious, much less about something that he knew was important to someone.

“Yeah,” Prompto replied at last. He sniffled, rubbing his nose with his fist before he gave Ignis one of his trademark crooked smiles. “I’d… like that. A lot.” 

To further Prompto’s bewilderment, he felt Ignis’ hand brush against his own, taking it firmly yet tenderly, his heart aching - a gesture that wordlessly spoke  _ you can trust me _ . And he allowed that hand to guide him back up the hill, over to where he’d sat just a few minutes ago. Against that bumpy log with weeds and pebbles beneath their feet, they sat side by side, with nothing but the faint cacophony of crickets and their voices blending beautifully together weaving through the night air. To share something so personal with someone else, something so  _ intimate _ \- there were just no words to describe it.

Prompto had never felt so safe and accepted in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. <3 (The songs featured in the story are ["Dancing's Not A Crime" by Panic! At the Disco](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rODNMWBLZzY%22) and ["Can't Sleep (Wolves)" by Walk the Moon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Oh4h5-LXm0)!)
> 
> You can find me here:
> 
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> 
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